Introspection of a Blade
by SuperPaperBag
Summary: Zero and the Grandark were nearly inseparable. One day, though, Zero decides to train on his own for once, and Grandark spends the day by itself, left behind to consider its relationship with its wielder. Written in Gran's POV. This is a sort of sequel to my previous story "Never Judge a Blade by Its Cover" and consequently will not make much sense without reading that fic first.


"Gran…I am departing now."

"Fine!" the blade replied huffily.

A few days prior, Zero had informed the sword that he wanted to train alone for a day, leaving the sword behind in his room. He had claimed that it was a simple precaution in case he was ever involuntarily separated from Grandark and needed to fight by himself. At first the sword was convinced that its wielder would never actually go through with such a preposterous notion, but yet here the sword was, watching as Zero exited the room and closed the bedroom door behind him.

The blade had been placed leaning up against the headboard of Zero's (unused) bed and facing the window. It imagined that the wanderer had positioned it there so it could see outside if it so desired. The sword harrumphed in annoyance—did Zero honestly think that that could placate Grandark after what he had done? It was part of the wanderer's mission in life to take care of the sword!

"That impudent fool…what does he think he's doing?" the sword mumbled to itself. "I hope he gets injured."

Grandark absentmindedly stared out the window, watching as the foliage outside remained perfectly still. It wondered how Zero was getting anything done without the sword. The wanderer couldn't even find his way around the dimension he grew up in without Grandark!

Then the sword began to ruminate over how the silver-haired demon could even fight without it. There probably had been times when the demon had ended a small skirmish without using the sword, but Grandark had never seen it. Whenever it was not in use during a battle, Grandark was placed along the wanderer's spine; consequently it could not see what Zero was doing when not being wielded.

Suddenly a thought appeared in the blade's mind. Was the wanderer using another sword? Zero was already on very thin ice leaving the sword alone. If Grandark discovered that its wielder had also been using another sword, things would definitely not end well for the wanderer.

The blade absolutely loathed the thought of its wielder ever becoming adulterated by touching another sword. Zero had been created for the explicit purpose of wielding and taking care of Grandark, and the blade firmly believed that the wanderer was its possession. Zero belonged to the sword.

It was not as if Gran had any feelings of affection towards Zero or anything stupid like that. If anything, the sword rather disliked its wielder's horrible personality. The only reason the sword had gone so far to make Zero dependent on it, rely on it, and come to it when he needed help was because it gave the blade power. To be perfectly honest with itself, in Grandark's infernal sword form—where it could not move act on its own—it didn't feel like it really had power over anything except for Zero.

Having such power over the wanderer, though, was greatly satisfying. The silver-haired demon's life almost completely revolved around the sword. It could force him to do almost anything it wanted simply by yelling at him for a while. Zero was essentially the blade's pawn. Grandark could dispose of him if it so desired when it finally procured a body. Then again, when the wanderer was not being a complete idiot and leaving the sword behind, Zero was fairly decent. The way the wanderer failed missions, humiliated himself, and alienated others was quite amusing. Grandark was not ashamed to be wielded by him…well, the majority of the time. The silver-haired demon listened to the sword and cleaned the blade regularly as he should have.

Actually, Zero was likely the sole reason Grandark had remained sane all those years spent in its abhorred sword body.

Hm. Regardless, the wanderer deserved harsh and merciless punishment.

Grandark sighed in frustration and looked back outside. The sun was just beginning to descend on the horizon. It reasoned that it might as well sleep, but try as it might it could not seem to fall into slumber. At first the sword thought that perhaps its previous introspection was bothering it; however Grandark quickly discarded the thought, as it had only thought about Zero in the first place to waste time.

After a few moments the blade realized that it was the absence of the wanderer's presence that disconcerted it. Grandark was used to falling asleep near or directly in contact with Zero's body; it was accustomed to imbibing the demon's warmth and listening to the heartbeat nearby. Without the wanderer, Grandark was terribly cold and forced to endure the terrible silence of the empty room. It was also becoming increasingly uncomfortable in its current position, and unfortunately there was no one around to complain to.

It eventually resorted to simply staring out the window for the next few hours, silently fuming over the current situation. Ultimately night turned to day and the sword was watching the sun rise. A flock of pesky birds had alighted in a nearby tree and began to annoy the blade with their incessant chirping. One particularly brave little bird even settled on the windowsill and stared back at the sword. Grandark kept itself entertained by watching the bird for a while. Eventually the bird flew away and the blade was forced to stare into space again. Morning became midday, and midday became afternoon.

By that point the sword was extremely testy. Zero had said twenty four hours, and already twenty six had passed. It was not like the wanderer to be late.

Two hours later the wanderer finally returned. As he entered the room, the sword said nothing, instead choosing to simply stare at its wielder accusingly.

"I apologize, Gran," the demon quickly stated. "Please allow me to explain why I am late."

The sword remained silent, not displaying even an inkling of its inner rage.

Zero slipped a hand into his pocket and removed a vial of a very familiar purple substance. "I came into contact with Arme while I was training. As an apology to you I managed to obtain the recipe of the mixture that caused you to change form and recreated the potion. The ingredients are rare and obtaining them is difficult, you see."

"…How long will it last?"

"About an hour."

"Use it now."

"At this exact moment?"

"Did I stutter?"

The wanderer sighed and pulled the stopper from the vial. "I am about to be severely punished, correct?"

"It was stupid of you to even ask," the sword replied curtly.

After a few moments the smoke contained within the vial began to pervade throughout the room. The mist-like substance slowly began to collect near the blade—it imagined that the spell was attracted to its large amount of mana—and after a few minutes the sword suddenly found itself actually **sitting** on the bed…butt naked.

When Grandark looked up the wanderer was already handing it a folded robe—the same robe that the sword had worn the last time it had adopted the strange humanlike form. "Turn around," the blade ordered. After Zero complied it (after a bit of trial-and-error) slipped on the garment and stood. The wanderer turned back around to face the sword, and from then on until the end of the "punishment" no words were spoken between them.

The sword was only vaguely aware of its actions after the first injury was inflicted. Grandark had quickly allowed its rage to consume it and control its actions. Nary had a thought occurred in the blade's head as it continued to brutally hack and slash at its wielder's body. As long as it did not actually kill the wanderer—a demon's body could take much damage without dying—the sword could be as brutal as it liked.

Zero never once complained or retaliated against the blade's onslaught. He simply accepted every blow with the same indifferent expression he always wore. Whenever Grandark knocked the wanderer down the demon would simply stand up again and face it.

Eventually the blade's rage subsided and it became bored with the wanderer's lack of reaction. "I'm done with you," Grandark finally stated, seating itself back on the bed and not giving a damn about the fact that it was staining the sheets with blood. To be more precise, Zero's blood.

The wanderer calmly pushed his shoulder joint back into its proper position—the sword wondered when exactly Zero's shoulder had become dislocated in the first place—and began to tend to his wounds. Grandark did not assist its wielder, as it genuinely believed that the demon had deserved every bruise and laceration.

"I'm cold. Sit next to me," the sword demanded.

"Gran, I am currently in the middle of-"

"NOW."

Zero sighed and stiffly seated himself beside the blade. "You tend to behave very similarly to a small, spoiled child," the wanderer remarked.

"This is pretty bad time to insult me, don't you think?"

"It was merely an observation."

Grandark leaned up against the demon and was almost instantly comforted by the familiar feeling of the wanderer's skin. After a few minutes of watching its wielder deal with bandages, the sword inquired, "If you knew I was going to do all that to you…why'd you let it happen?"

"You are infamous for holding grudges," Zero replied coolly. "I would prefer that you release your anger here when we are alone than in the future when others could be in danger as well. You are my responsibility, and I will not allow others to be harmed due to the anger I caused you. I apologize again for leaving you alone. It must have been difficult for you."

"Tch. I was fine!" the sword quickly snapped. "…But if you ever think of doing something like that again I swear I'll cause you a much more permanent injury." Grandark knew quite well that threats did not really work on the wanderer, but it felt better after eliciting them nevertheless.

"I understand."

"You didn't wield another sword, did you?"

"I would not dream of it."

Feeling both mentally and physically soothed, Grandark reposed its head on the wanderer's shoulder and fell asleep. At that moment it did not even care that it was essentially wasting precious time in a mobile form—as long as it still had power over Zero.

* * *

Author's Notes:

-Ok, I'm really worried about this because normally my friend reads everything I write before it's posted, but this time she fell asleep before she could read it and because most of my readers are online in the middle of the night I wanted to post this now. So if it's complete crap I'm sorry. I can always rewrite it or something if it's really that bad.

-This brought me so much frustration to write. lol.

-As the summary suggests, this will make a whole lot more sense if you've read "Never Judge a Blade by Its Cover." Seriously, it will make much more sense.

-As usual, this was completely rushed and much of the information is completely made up. I have no idea if Gran actually feels that way or not.

-I did not make this the second chapter of "Never Judge a Blade by Its Cover" because I felt that the subjects and sort of themes in this were quite different from that story's. This fic was intended to be taken a bit more seriously than the other story, even though it does seem to take place chronologically only around a few weeks or so after "Never Judge a Blade by Its Cover."

-I don't really have time for author's notes at the moment because I really have to get to sleeping now, but if I come up with any others I'll be sure to add them here.

-Thanks to my readers, as always.


End file.
